Pickle?
by KaydenceRei
Summary: Juliet, Sawyer, alcohol and an uncooperative pickle jar at a Dharma party. Featuring 80's musical compilations by Miles! Early Dharmaville.


**They're coming to take me away ha-ha. They're coming to take me away ho-ho. To the funny farm.. where life is beautiful _all_ the time!**

**Okay. I'll stop.**

**Pickle?**:

One too many glasses of wine, check. One rather odd craving to eat a really good pickle, check. One Jin passed out and snoring on pool table, check. One Miles singing song's from the 80's while people encouraged his wonderful creative skills, check. One Sawyer-- uncheck.

She didn't spy the man anywhere. She shrugged, fiddling with the lid on the pickle jar that was put out on one of the tables in the rec-room. Parties were a sure thing in Dharma. You could find about any food on the tables if you looked hard enough. As for her, well, she wanted a damned pickle. She came, she saw, but she was yet to conquer the smarmy little bastard. "Stupid pickles.."

"Hey Mickey you're so fine! You're so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey!" came Miles voice.

Juliet looked up and rolled her eyes as Miles drunkenly pretended to be compiling this song for Mikaela who was giggling at him.

"Oh Mickey what a pity, you don't understand! You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand--"

And the Dharma initiative was clapping their hands to Miles' drunken compilations. Juliet was just surprised he didn't mistakenly say 'it's guys like you Mickey' like in the real song. That would have been hilarious to see.

"Uhh.. Juliet?"

She locked eyes with Sawyer now. "Yes, James?"

"Whatcha' doin'?" he questioned.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Failing to open a pickle jar," he stated. "Just a wild guess."

"Nothing gets passed you, does it?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow up inquisitively.

"Love shack, baby! Love shack! Love baby, that's where it's at!"

Both Sawyer and Juliet froze.

"Huggin' and a' kissin', dancin' and a lovin' at the looooove shack!"

"Uh.. Juliet?"

"Yes, James?" she questioned a second time, glancing up from her pickle jar.

"Why didn't nobody stop Miles from singin' songs from the _eighties_?" he hissed out.

"You got me," she stated with a shrug. "I'd say it's because Jin's smashed on a pool table and I got here too late to stop him," she suggested to him. "Would you have preferred I go up to him and say, 'Miles stop singing songs from the future'?" She drew her eyes back to the pickle jar and attempted to give it another tug. '_Damned pickle jar. Stupid Miles. I just want a damned pickle..'_

"Ya' want any help with that?" he dared to ask after a moment of studying her frustrated look.

Juliet didn't cast him a glance. "To open this? No thanks."

Sawyer blinked. "Well, no offense, but clearly yer' having problems with said pickle jar.."

"Who said that?" she questioned, looking up now.

"Nobody, it's just-- you've been trying to open it for over ten minutes."

"I can open a pickle jar, James," she chided.

"Course' ya' can," he agreed, shrugging his shoulders. Hell if he was going to tell her she _couldn't_. She'd likely smack him.

"When a problem comes along, you must whip it--"

"Yo', Miles!" Sawyer called out. "Yer' kinda flat man, belt it out!"

Miles nodded. "Thanks man!" he called back. "When the cream sits out too long, you must _whip_ it! When something's going wrong, you must _whip _it!"

"Why in _hell_ would you encourage him?" she dared to ask. "Have you lost your damned mind?"

He shrugged. "Shits and giggles. You sure you don't want help with that?"

"I said I can do it."

"Well aware, sweetheart," he stated. "But maybe you want help anyways?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Couldn't you find something better to do then harass me and my pickle jar?"

"Come ta' think of it.. nope."

'_Stupid, hair-brained Southern monkey.. men! And this freaking jar spawned from hell!_' "OW! Sonuvabitch!" she growled out, jamming her fingers.

"For the love of-- just gimme the damned jar, woman," Sawyer ordered her, holding his hand out.

Caveman-women-can't-open-a-pickle-jar Sawyer making an appearance, check. "Fine," she conceded. "If you _really_ feel you must, take it, open it, I don't care," she stated, handing it over to him. "Fair warning, that lid's nice and tight."

"My specialty," he assured her.

She narrowed her eyes again.

"Now _whip it_, into shape.. Shape it up, get straight, go forward, move ahead, try to detect it, it's not too late.. to whip it! Whip it _good_!"

"Nice vocals, Miles!" he called out.

Miles made a whipping gesture at him.

'_I swear.. if he opens that stupid jar, I'll--'_

_POP._

"Dammit.." she muttered. "You're such a bastard."

"Thank you.. pickle?"

**()()END()()**

**Hah.**


End file.
